


let's put on a show; pretty boy in a red bow

by artemis_west



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cabaret, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Exy, Alternate Universe - Politics, Cabarets, Face-Fucking, Hate to Love, M/M, Out of Character, Political Campaigns, Polyamory, Riding, Sexual Tension, Smut, Stripping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-30 21:47:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15105509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artemis_west/pseuds/artemis_west
Summary: In which Neil is Abram, a stripper in a cabaret nightclub, and he is sent by his uncle to Palmetto to aid in a political plot against the Moriyamas. Kevin is immediately lovestruck; Andrew is a little harder to convince.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> imma be honest with y'all. i have no idea what this is. 
> 
> it was inspired by the book amberlough by lara elena donnelly if anyone has read that: 1930s fantasy world, cabaret, political drama. i just knew i wanted neil as a cabaret performer and kevin and andrew as federal intelligence/agent type people. but mostly, as always, this was just an excuse to write porn. 
> 
> full disclaimer: none of this makes sense. there is no solid plot. i really just wanted to write the porn. the plot (or lack thereof) is full of holes and falls apart if you think about it for too long, but i'm going with it. i like the porn at least and how i wrote neil so i wanted to post it. 
> 
> (neil is slightly ooc, but i think it fits in this world)

“You know the drill,” Dan said, nodding to each Kevin and Andrew before she slipped into the shadows, leaving them at the door to the cabaret. “In and out, no distractions.”

Kevin and Andrew gave affirmative nods back, straightening the ties of their suits before they entered the building through the side door. The job was simple - find the buyers, make the trade-off, get as much information as they could out of their marks before they left and reported back to Wymack. No dallying with the blush boys who moved from table to table, draping themselves across laps, no slipping into back rooms with the stage performers. Andrew had never been one for that sort of thing, anyhow, but Kevin had been known to disappear occasionally. It would cost too much tonight, though, and Andrew was determined to keep an eye on his partner to keep him from wandering. 

There was supposed to be some big to-do tonight, a special show from a new star making his stage debut. His name had been framed in lights above the gaudy red doors to the cabaret outside - Abram Hatford, blinking on and off in the marquee. There had been a large poster of him above the ticket booth, his face half-hidden by the fox-fur neck of a red silk dressing gown; lashes lined with glittering mascara, eyes painted in subtle hues of smoke and sparkling an electric shade of blue, face painted in glitter. What the poster showed of his face was tantalizing enough, shrouded though it was; his expression was coy, one perfect brow arched, the hint of a dimple peeking out from where his hand, buffed nails painted black, held the dressing gown up to hide his mouth. His hair was copper as the shiny coins that passed from hand to hand in the market every day, curly and with a fringe falling over his forehead, cut just above his eyebrows.

Andrew hadn’t stared too long at the poster - though Kevin had seen him pause and take in a sharp breath, eyes narrowing with something almost like desire, or at least the closest Andrew ever came to it - but Kevin had been captivated by it, mouth going dry at the picture of the boy. Dan had had to pull him by his coat sleeve, shaking her head as she clicked her tongue. 

“None of that,” she’d said. “Unless he’s a mark, or unless he’s got information concerning our cause, he is not your focus tonight.”

Kevin had swallowed guiltily and straightened his shoulders, taking his eyes away from the poster. 

Hopefully, they’d be out of the cabaret before Abram took the stage. Otherwise, Kevin was going to have trouble on his hands. He would bring it on himself, but he wouldn’t be able to resist. 

He and Andrew moved quietly into the nightclub, weaving between the high tables and chairs and velvet booths as a girl sang in dulcet tones on the stage. Their marks tonight were in one of the booths closer to the stage; a coveted spot for important clients of the cabaret. When Kevin and Andrew arrived, the marks were staring at the singer, who was wearing a crystal-embellished dress that clung to her curves, and with the spotlight illuminating the girl, the audience could see right through the fabric. That was the intention, of course, and as she sang, pouting her rouged lips, the girl turned and spun slowly in a circle, following the rhythm of the song. The club patrons applauded madly, whistling. The girl winked, her pin curls framing her heart-shaped face. She was beautiful, and Kevin’s eyes couldn’t help but follow her as she draped herself over the piano, where the accompanist played along with her. 

Andrew paid no attention to the girl whatsoever, arms crossed over his chest as he positioned himself in view of their marks. The men snapped out of a trance when Andrew cut off their line of sight, and for a moment they were angry before they realized who it was that was standing in front of their booth. 

“Boys,” the one whose name was Johnson said, smiling as he gestured at the empty side of the booth. “Glad you could make it. Please, sit.” As if he owned the place. Andrew slid in first, Kevin on the outside. “You brought our product?”

“For the price you promised,” Andrew said, casually dancing the fingers of his right hand across his left coat sleeve. Johnson’s smile tightened, and the two other marks glanced at each other nervously. Everyone who dealt with Wymack and his Foxes knew what Andrew always carried with him, concealed under his sleeves. 

“Of course,” Johnson said. Under the table, hands changed, and Kevin and Andrew exchanged small silk bags of the drug called cracker dust for thick wads of cash, bundled in rubber bands. 

“Now,” Kevin said, pocketing the cash. “Your intel.”

Johnson leaned forward across the table, picking up his drink and sipping it first before he spoke. His voice was quiet and conspiratorial. “Tensions are running high on the border between Evermore and Troia. Rumor has it the Raven King is putting his name in the hat for the upcoming election. His father is in ill health.”

Andrew and Kevin looked at each other, Andrew’s face carefully blank, Kevin’s shocked and near terror. For years, the four nation-states that made up the small country of Crevan - Palmetto, Columbia, Evermore, and Troia - had been in civil tidings with one another, though there were border skirmishes and political plots popping up every now and then. Each territory was governed by its own leader, the four of whom sat on the Council of Representatives, and the Moriyamas had claimed Evermore for generations. Its current representative was Lord Kengo, and his second son, Riko, had been aiming for the council seat since he came of age. The council was meant to keep wars from arising between the four nations, but everyone knew Evermore was the least likely to follow the rules the council set. They had always been the most troublesome, and people whispered their true aim was to get control of all of Crevan, abolishing the four territories as a whole and creating one government, under one power. So far, the other three representatives on the council had been able to keep Lord Kengo from completely defecting, but if Riko took his seat, he would stop at nothing to seize total control. 

Kevin could not let that happen. God help them all if the Raven King got anywhere near the council. 

“How long does Lord Kengo have left?” Andrew asked, turning back to Johnson, who shrugged. 

“Hard to say. Could be a month, could be two. Unless, of course, the Raven King decides to speed up the process.” He leaned back carelessly, as if didn’t matter whatsoever to him who was in power. Johnson was from Evermore himself, so of course it  _ wouldn’t  _ matter. He only traveled to Palmetto for the drugs Wymack’s Foxes supplied him with, and he provided them intel from across the border in exchange for protection on foreign soil. Visitors from Evermore were not treated kindly in Palmetto.

“He’ll never get the vote,” Kevin said, face pale. “There’s still Tetsuji, and Ichirou.” Riko’s uncle and older brother. No better than their kin, but a lesser evil if either one of them were to claim the council seat. Johnson smirked. 

“If you say so.” Evermore’s elections had always been rigged, favoring nepotism and corruption over democracy. 

“Charles won’t give up the territory even if Riko manages to take the seat,” Andrew said calmly. Charles Whittier was the representative for Palmetto, and he’d been holding strong in his position for several years. Though if Wymack wanted to run in the next election, he’d have no problem winning. He’d been Whittier’s right-hand-man for nearly a decade, and he helped keep the streets clean with the aid of the Foxes. 

Johnson shrugged again, raising his hands in the air. “Hey, you wanted your intel, I gave it to you. I don’t have anything to do with the rest.” The men he’d brought with him had already turned their attention back to the stage, which was now empty. The girl was gone, and the curtains were drawn so stagehands could prepare for the next act behind it. 

Kevin’s mind was ablaze, his thoughts tripping over themselves, an old panic rising in him and making it hard to breathe. The Moriyamas, Lord Kengo, Tetsuji, Riko, Evermore - all of it dredged up terrible memories and made old scars itch. Beneath the table, Andrew put his hand on Kevin’s knee and squeezed it, pressing their thighs together for a solid, comforting warmth. Kevin closed his eyes and tilted his head back against the booth, trying to still the racing beat of his heart. Andrew raised his hand to catch the attention of a passing server and ordered them both drinks. They weren’t supposed to linger - in and out, Dan had said, that was always the way - but Kevin needed time to calm down. 

Low, sultry music began to play, and a hush fell over the club in anticipation. Kevin opened his eyes. He’d forgotten about the main act, the boy on the poster outside. 

The curtains opened on a dark stage, only one circle of light illuminating the center. In the shadows, Kevin could see a set for the performance - two tall art-deco pillars, one on each side of the spotlight, a simple wooden chair, and the shining lacquered piano to the left. The men in the crowd whispered to each other excitedly. 

All was quiet as the sound of a pair of heels slowly clicking across the wood planks of the stage filled the room. The boy on the poster emerged from the shadows and stepped into the spotlight, his back turned to the crowd. He wore the robe he was wearing on the poster - red silk, glossy and clinging to his form, the hem just barely brushing the floor, with a fox fur collar and fur adorning the wrist cuffs. His hair shone in the light, the curls kept in perfect place. He wore a red ribbon in his hair, tied in a neat bow at the top. As the music played, the boy slowly dropped his robe, exposing freckled shoulders and a lithe, supple back. Kevin watched the muscles move as the boy stretched his arms to the side. He looked coquettishly over his shoulder, teasing the audience as he let the robe drop inch by inch. With his face uncovered, Kevin could see what had been concealed on the poster - the boy had scars, gruesome ones that told what was most likely a harrowing story. But somehow, they didn’t take away from his beauty. No one in the audience seemed repelled by them - only more intrigued as they leaned forward in their seats. 

Kevin couldn’t stop staring.

The boy’s lips were painted red, his skin covered in glitter. When he finally let the robe drop to the floor, the men cheered ecstatically at what was underneath: a pair of tiny little silk shorts covering a pert, round ass, attached by ribbons with bows on them to a pair of crystal-studded stockings that sheathed the most beautiful pair of legs Kevin had ever seen. He wore heels on his feet, black things that gave him nearly three inches in height, and when he bent over slowly, wiggling his ass, the crowd went wild. 

Kevin lost his breath and all thought in his head.

The music picked up, and the boy turned to face the crowd, smiling wide as he raised his arms. He had pink, perfect nipples, and the outline of his cock showed clearly through his shorts. Kevin would have thought he’d have tucked it in, but no - this was meant to arouse. He suddenly saw a tremendous increase in revenue in the cabaret’s future. This boy was going to bring in thousands of coin. 

Kevin noticed the grip on his knee had tightened considerably, and when he turned to look at Andrew, he saw his jaw was clenched, his shoulders tense, and he was breathing slowly through his nose. His eyes were dark as they fixed on the stage. Kevin knew that in all his life, he had been the only one to ever draw interest from Andrew. To see him captivated by another now was shocking, but Kevin couldn’t blame him. If there was ever anyone else in the world to catch Andrew’s eye, it would be this boy. 

_ Abram,  _ Kevin suddenly remembered his name from the marquee outside.  _ Abram Hatford.  _

“Jesus Christ,” Johnson said, whistling low. He leered at Abram as he performed, a dangerous hunger in his eye, and Kevin suddenly felt like throwing him out of the booth. 

“Where did they find this kid?” one of Johnson’s men asked, practically drooling as he watched Abram lean his back against one of the pillars, his mouth opening as he began to sing. His voice pulled everyone in even more. 

“No idea,” Johnson said. “But I’d like to find out.”

Abram’s movements were slow and fluid, every eye in the house following him as he moved his arms, swayed his hips, and bent his knees to the song. He sat in the wooden chair on the stage and spread his legs wide, winking at the audience when they cheered. Kevin’s mouth went completely dry. He took a large sip of his drink. He hadn’t even noticed the server deliver it. 

Abram draped himself over the piano as the previous girl had done, but where she had been on her stomach, he was on his back, sticking his legs in the air in a straight line. The crystals on his stockings and the glitter on his skin threw off light into the club, glinting off drink glasses and metal cigarette cases. Abram bent one leg at the knee slowly, arching his back as he sang. The song was seductive, and Abram acted the part, making facial expressions as if he were deep in the act of pleasure, biting his lip and moaning when there was a pause in the lyrics. Embarrassingly, Kevin felt himself begin to grow hard, and he shifted his hips in the booth, trying to stop it from happening. He pressed one hand against his crotch, and the pressure made him gasp quietly. 

Beside him, Andrew was practically sweating, and Kevin could see that Andrew was pressing the heel of his hand into his groin, looking angry and annoyed. But he couldn’t disguise his lust. That surprised Kevin even more than the fact of Andrew’s initial interest - showing desire in public was something Andrew had never done, not once, unless he could manage to pull Kevin into a private space where they’d be in no danger of being discovered.

But they weren’t the only ones - around them, some of the men in the club weren’t bothering to disguise their reactions to Abram. 

Abram slid off the piano and moved gracefully down the steps at the side of the stage, floating out into the crowd. He touched the men, but it was a rule that the men couldn’t touch him, and Kevin could see the torture on every one of their faces. He could tell Abram was enjoying the torture, too. He slipped his hands into pockets and curled his fingers into hair, pulling heads back, singing softly into ears. He stole a man’s hat and placed it on his own head, tipping it low. He took a drag from one man’s cigarette and then placed the stick back in the man’s open mouth, patting his cheek. He snapped one man’s suspenders and trailed his fingers across another’s shoulders, and then, as he made his circle of the room, he reached the booth where Kevin and Andrew sat. 

Up close, he was even more breathtaking, and Kevin could only stare, awestruck. Abram smiled dazzlingly and sat his perky ass on their table, spreading his legs. He smelled like a pastry from Kevin’s favorite bakery, sweet and cloying. Kevin wondered what he tasted like and blushed madly. 

“Boys,” Abram said, winking at them. He leaned forward until his lips were at Kevin’s ear, and Kevin’s hand fisted in the fabric of his pants, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. “I know who you are. Come to my room after the show. Both of you. I have information you might be interested in.”

Kevin’s eyes widened, and he looked at Andrew. Abram glanced at Andrew once, smile flashing with a secret, before he left the table and returned to the stage. 

Kevin sat through the rest of the show in a daze, unable to figure out if he’d hallucinated Abram’s words or if the boy had actually spoken to him. Abram ended the song laid out on his back at the front of the stage, body arched, arm thrown over his head in abandon, his other hand on his thigh. The audience was on its feet before the last notes of the song had trickled through the room, and Abram grinned, standing fluidly and taking a deep bow. He picked up his robe, slipped it back on, and caught one of the roses someone threw to him from the crowd. He blew a kiss to his fans and turned, disappearing off stage. The applause didn’t die down for another five minutes. 

Andrew prodded Kevin to let him out of the booth while the men were still standing and cheering, and it was only then that Kevin moved, shaking himself out of his stupor. Andrew nodded to Johnson and his men and smoothed the lapels of his coat, bidding them goodbye. Johnson watched Andrew and Kevin suspiciously as they turned and headed in the direction of the door that lead to the performers’ rooms. 

There was a bouncer standing in front of the door, but he stepped aside to let Andrew and Kevin in without a word. Kevin was still half-hypnotized, following Andrew blindly as they moved down the plush red-carpeted hallway. The walls were hung with old black-and-white photos, a timeline of the cabaret when it was first built, its first performers. At the end of the hall, there was a photo of Abram, posing lasciviously on a satin divan. He was looking straight at the camera - straight at Kevin, it seemed - and it made Kevin swallow thickly, his breath shortening once again. 

Andrew had stopped in front of a door with a lighted star on it, a gold plaque reading  _ Abram  _ below it in block letters. 

“Are we really doing this?” Kevin asked breathlessly. Andrew’s eyes were narrowed. 

“He said he knew who we were and he had information. I don’t know who he is or what he wants, but I plan to choke it out of him.” 

“That’s . . . probably not wise,” Kevin said, pulling at his tie. He was nervous, suddenly, at the thought of being in Abram’s dressing room, in close quarters with him. He didn’t know what to say, what to do. Andrew rolled his eyes at Kevin’s state and pounded his fist against the door. 

“You are pathetic,” he said. 

“Come in,” a soft voice came from inside. Andrew tried the knob and the door opened without resistance. “Close it behind you, gentlemen.” 

Abram was sitting at his vanity, applying blush to his cheeks. He was still wearing his robe, though his feet were now bare, legs crossed where he sat on a high-backed velvet chair. His mirror was huge, large light bulbs lining the frame. It was draped in jewelry, scarves and pieces of lingerie hanging off the edges. Abram’s vanity counter was cluttered with jars of makeup and glitter. The room itself was an explosion of color, mostly red. 

In the mirror, Abram caught Kevin’s eye and smiled, and Kevin was intensely aware of how hard he was, still. Abram looked like he knew it, too. 

Andrew wasted no time with pleasantries. His fists were clenched at his sides, and his words came out through his teeth. He didn’t like being toyed with. 

“Who are you, and what the hell do you want?” he demanded. 

Abram sighed and stood up, turning to face them. He still wore the red bow in his hair, and Kevin found himself wanting to touch it to see how soft it was. His fingers twitched. 

“My name is Neil Abram Hatford,” the boy said, moving past them to lock the door. Andrew reached for one of his knives, but Kevin flung out his hand and stopped him, shaking his head quickly. Abram raised an eyebrow. “But my  _ real  _ name is Nathaniel Wesninski. Or at least, it was. And I’m no danger to you, trust me.”

Kevin and Andrew stopped, frozen. 

“Wesninski?” Kevin repeated, dumbfounded. 

“Yes, that’s right.” 

“You - ” Kevin didn’t understand. “What?”

“I told you I had information that would interest you.”

“Start explaining,” Andrew growled. “Now.”

“Mmm, dominant. I like it,” Abram purred, his eyes traveling slowly up and down Andrew’s body. Andrew glared. Perhaps he got the sense Andrew didn’t like to be touched, because Abram didn’t approach him - instead, he slunk towards Kevin, standing on his tiptoes to tap his fingers against his cheek. “Now  _ you,  _ Kevin Day, are even prettier than I thought you would be.”

“How - ” Kevin had to stop, swallow, and start again, his head spinning when Abram’s hand slid down his chest. “How do you know who we are?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Abram said flippantly, waving a hand in the air as he stepped away from Kevin. Kevin felt cold with the loss of his touch. “You don’t step foot in Palmetto without knowing who the Foxes are. My uncle told me everything I needed to know before he got me this job.”

“Your uncle?”

“Stuart Hatford.” 

“Never heard of him.”

“You wouldn’t have. He keeps his business discreet. Safer that way.” Abram sat on a couch pushed against the wall, his robe falling open over his half-naked body. He hadn’t changed out of the tight shorts and stockings, and Kevin tried hard not to stare. Though he got the feeling Abram wanted him to stare. 

“But you’re a Wesninski,” Andrew said, keeping his eyes steadily on Abram’s face. 

“I was, before my uncle’s people killed my father and his men.”

Kevin nearly choked. “You’re Nathan’s son?”

Abram smiled, chillingly cold. “Indeed.”

For a moment, Kevin was silent, unable to believe it. “And he’s really dead?”

“Saw it happen myself.” Abram tapped his face thoughtfully, where his scars were. Kevin didn’t need to ask how he’d gotten them. 

The Wesninskis used to work out of Evermore, directly under the Moriyamas. They’d been helping to keep the Moriyamas on the council and in power for years, and they’d been a major crime family, controlling most of Evermore’s police force and its streets. Before Kevin came to Palmetto, he hadn’t had the misfortune of coming face to face with Nathan Wesninski, but Riko had told him all about the man. And he’d talked often of his son, too. 

“I’ll have him, eventually,” Riko had said loftily one evening, examining his reflection in the mirror. “I want to ruin him. He’s too pretty and proud of it. Something needs to be done about that.”

Kevin had hidden his shiver. 

“How did your uncle manage to kill your father?” Andrew asked skeptically. 

“The Hatfords are powerful. Hardly a soul knows about them because they’re good at what they do. They’ve been quietly running networks through all four territories for years, and they have more reach than the Moriyamas have ever had. My uncle wants control of Evermore, has ideas about cleaning it up and changing it for the better.” Abram waved his hand in the air dismissively and rolled his eyes. “Anyway, he’s planning on running in the next election, but he needs the Moriyamas out of the way to do that. The first step was getting rid of their muscle.”

“Yes, but  _ how _ ?” Kevin asked. 

Abram shrugged, examining his nails. “I don’t care for the details. I only know the task my uncle set upon me. I’m to gain your trust, join the Foxes, and work my way up to Whittier. I’m supposed to introduce my uncle to him, and from there, Stuart will have protection and enough political backing to be a viable candidate in the election.”

“The Moriyamas won’t just hand him the seat,” Andrew said. “They’ll kill him first.”

Abram smirked. “They’ll try. They would’ve killed me after my father died, to clean up any messes and save themselves the trouble, but my uncle got me out of there before they even discovered the Hatfords were responsible. And they still don’t know my uncle’s the one that did it. The Hatfords operate under a hundred different names, and they’re never caught.”

It didn’t make any sense. None of this made any sense. And yet . . . the thought of a new face on Evermore’s council seat was too tempting for Kevin to ignore. The thought of getting rid of the Moriyamas filled him with a strange, painful sort of hope. 

“How do we know any of this is true?” Andrew asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Abram sighed and lounged across the couch, spreading his legs a little wider. Kevin was going to die. 

“Believe me, or don’t,” Abram said. “I don’t really care. But at least take the information back to your boss and see what he says.”

Andrew cursed. “We weren’t even supposed to be here this long. Dan’s waiting.” He turned towards the door, done with the conversation and the distraction Abram provided. Kevin moved to follow him, slowly. Abram pouted. 

“You could stay for a while longer,” he said demurely, batting his lashes at Kevin. He brought a hand to the front of his shorts and rubbed himself slowly. “Don’t you want to play with me?”

Kevin made a helpless sound, and Abram smiled. 

“I - ” Kevin started to say, gasping when Andrew pinched his wrist hard to get him to follow him. He looked back at Abram, fighting off every desire he had to go and take what he was offering. “I really can’t, not now. I’m sorry.”

“Not now,” Abram said just before Andrew slammed the door shut behind them, “doesn’t mean not ever.”

 

*

 

_ ONE WEEK LATER _

 

“I cannot believe we’re doing this,” Andrew muttered to himself as he and Kevin entered the cabaret. “This is all going to come crashing down on our heads.”

They’d taken Abram’s information to Wymack, who’d considered it for three days straight before he decided to do something about it. He’d sent some of the Foxes out to Evermore, and they’d come back with a confirmation of Abram’s story. He was who he said he was, and he’d told them the truth. Wymack had agreed to help him and his uncle. 

Andrew believed it was all a set-up, and thought Abram was going to get them all killed. But Kevin thought that was just a thinly veiled excuse Andrew made up so he would have a reason to distrust Abram, instead of simply hating him for how pretty he was. 

Matt was with them this time, eyes already searching the stage for Abram as soon as the three of them entered the club. Kevin had held nothing back when he’d described Abram to the Foxes, and now they were all curious to see what he looked like. Wymack said they would all get their chance eventually if things worked out, but he’d let Matt go tonight because he needed extra eyes in the club. 

They found a booth near the stage and ordered a round of drinks, waiting for the show to start. The crowd was considerably bigger than it had been last time - news of Abram’s act had reached far across the state, and now the bodies were packed in like sardines. Kevin felt bad for the other performers. No one was here to see them. 

When Abram took the stage, Matt’s jaw dropped. 

“Lord in Heaven,” he said. “You were not kidding.” 

Kevin shook his head, eyes never leaving Abram. He wore the fox fur dressing gown again, but with a different ensemble underneath this time - that red bow was still in his hair, though. Kevin had a sudden image of running his fingers over it while he pounded into Abram, and he blushed, squeezing his legs together under the table. Abram was going to be the death of him. Kevin had dreamt of him every night for a week, in varying scenarios. In all of them, Kevin had ended up inside of Abram. Sometimes Andrew was there, watching, and sometimes he was participating. 

Andrew had been angrier than usual all week, and Kevin thought that might be because he was having similar dreams.

“If I wasn’t a faithful man . . . .” Matt said, shaking his head slowly as he watched Abram dance on stage. 

“Dan might give you a pass for this one,” Kevin said dryly. Matt’s eyes lit up. 

“You think so?”

Abram’s eyes found Kevin’s in the crowd, and when he smiled, it was just for him. They never broke eye contact after that, and Kevin felt like the only man in the room. Abram was putting on this show for him and him alone. By the end of it, Kevin was painfully hard. 

“Let’s go,” Andrew said roughly, stalking towards the door by the bar that lead to the performers’ rooms. Matt stayed behind, though he looked loath to do so. Kevin patted his shoulder and followed Andrew. 

“You’re back,” Abram said happily when they entered his dressing room. He frowned, putting his blush down. “Where’s your friend? I thought I might get to shake his hand.” His lips curved into a suggestive grin.

“You’ll meet him soon,” Kevin promised, staring at that rouged mouth. 

“Oh, good,” Abram said, smiling smugly at Andrew. “Then I assume David has agreed to help?”

Andrew huffed and shook his head. “Everything about you is a bad idea.”

“Really? I’ve been told I’m a delight.” Abram stood from his chair and walked over to Kevin, boldly slinging his arms around Kevin’s neck. Kevin’s arms went immediately around Abram’s waist, holding him close. “I’m very excited to work with you both.” 

He pulled Kevin’s face down and kissed him. 


	2. Chapter 2

Abram’s campaign to get Andrew into his bed began almost immediately after he was introduced to the rest of the Foxes. He and Kevin started sleeping together as soon as Abram was given a room at the Foxhole, the luxurious set of apartments Whittier provided for Wymack and the Foxes. Abram’s room was right in between Kevin’s and Andrew’s. 

He still worked at the cabaret - he genuinely liked the job, loved the attention even more - but every night, he returned to the Foxhole, where he would slip into Kevin’s bed and ride him until sunset or let Kevin fuck him into a wall. In between the sex - which was better than anything Kevin had ever had in his life - Kevin took Abram out on the town so they could truly get to know each other. He showered him with gifts and presents, spoiling him beyond measure. Andrew usually accompanied them, muttering excuses about how he still didn’t trust Abram and had to watch Kevin’s back. 

Whenever Abram performed, Kevin and Andrew were in the crowd, and they would always meet him in his dressing room after the show to escort him back to the Foxhole. Abram was a Fox now, and Foxes protected each other. Abram used their increased presence in his life to tempt Andrew into joining his and Kevin’s trysts. Once, when they entered his dressing room, it was to see him laid out on the couch, legs spread, moaning as he pulled himself off. He’d turned his head towards them when they entered the room, and he came the moment their eyes met. Andrew had stood frozen for a moment, radiating tension, before he’d left the room and slammed the door. Kevin had stayed. Abram had snapped his fingers, and Kevin had fallen to his knees in front of the couch to lick the pearly white drops from Abram’s stomach.

“You’re only going to piss him off,” Kevin said against Abram’s skin. 

“Hush,” Abram said, running his fingers through Kevin’s hair. “He’ll give in eventually.” He was so sure of himself, and why wouldn’t he be?

“You’re right about that, too,” Kevin said, swallowing Abram’s laugh. He could see Andrew’s will cracking, and it was only a matter of time before it snapped completely.

Abram was relentless. Every moment he wasn’t performing or discussing business with Wymack or joining in games with the Foxes, he was trying to lead Andrew into temptation. He walked around the Foxhole in nothing but his fox fur robe, draped himself over Kevin’s lap and kissed him messily and noisily while the others were in full view, teased and flirted and played with Andrew whenever he was near. The others were taking bets now on how long it would last until Andrew finally gave in. 

One night, when Kevin was fucking Abram in his room, Abram was moaning loudly, practically screaming Kevin’s name. Andrew barged into the room, eyes blazing, but neither of them stopped. Abram smiled at Andrew as Kevin buried his face in his neck and marked him over and over again, cock spearing into him. 

“Ready to give in?” Abram asked, rubbing his nipples as Kevin fisted his cock. He gasped, arching his back beautifully, and Andrew had been frozen solid, standing there and watching until it was done. He’d left when Abram trailed his fingers through the come on his chest and brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean while he looked at Andrew and moaned. 

“It took him nearly a year before he even kissed me,” Kevin told Abram, tracing his tongue over his neck. “But I know him. He’s wavering.”

“Mmm,” Abram said, humming with satisfaction. “Good.”

 

*

When the Foxes finally met Stuart Hatford, the meeting went well, and the news from Evermore was good. The Hatfords had apparently gotten help from Troia in their plot to take down the Moriyamas. Stuart had named himself a candidate in the election, and the polls were already showing in his favor. He was endorsed by Charles Whittier, Wymack, and Rhemann, the council representative from Troia. Person by person, the Moriyama network was being dismantled. The people of Evermore were apparently rioting in the streets, protesting the nepotism that had ruled their state’s government for years. Dissent had been spread among the citizens, and the Moriyamas were scrambling to earn back the fear that had kept them in power for so long.

The day after their meeting with Stuart Hatford, Abram was in Kevin’s room, riding his cock with his head thrown back. Kevin was holding Abram’s cock, keeping him from coming, edging him slowly. Abram was being purposely loud again. 

Soon enough, Andrew burst into the room, growling with fury. He slammed the door shut and stalked toward them. “You. Are always. Too. Fucking. Loud.”

“Maybe you should stuff my mouth with something, then, hm?” Abram suggested, blue eyes defiant as they focused on Andrew. 

Andrew stood there, fists clenched, for a full minute before he reached out and grabbed a fistful of Abram’s hair, yanking his head back. Abram gasped in pleasure, his cock leaking in Kevin’s hand. Andrew unbuttoned his pants roughly, pulling his cock out. 

“Fine,” he snarled, shoving his already half-hard cock into Abram’s open mouth. Abram choked and gagged, but he closed his eyes as Andrew thrust into his throat. Andrew fingered the red bow in Abram’s hair - always there, he hardly ever took it off - and glared at him with such lust and anger in his eyes that Kevin shuddered, releasing inside Abram. 

“Look at me,” Andrew demanded, and Abram opened his eyes, staring up at Andrew with the bright, sparkling blue as Andrew used his mouth. Abram still rolled his hips against Kevin, fucking the come back into himself. Kevin watched breathlessly and stroked Abram’s cock as Andrew and Abram stared at each other, both of them players in a game they refused to give up on. A few minutes later, Andrew pulled out of Abram’s mouth and spent on his face, white ropes coating Abram’s cheeks, falling on his nose and lips and chin. Kevin got him off, swallowing most of his come. 

The three of them breathed heavily, the tension in the room slowly fading. 

Abram smiled prettily, and Kevin saw the moment Andrew finally, truly gave up.

 

*

 

After that, Andrew was always with them when they were together. Sometimes he would participate, and sometimes he would watch while Kevin and Abram got each other off, and sometimes he would want Abram to himself. But most of the time, it was the three of them, giving and taking and pushing and pulling. Andrew was less angry after he finally gave into his desires. He was more relaxed, quietly content, though he would never say. He was always within touching distance of Abram, shadowing him protectively, and always, always looking at him, admiring him. Abram drank it up, soaking in Andrew’s subtle affection like he was breathing air. Kevin was grateful that they could finally give it a rest now. He’d missed Andrew, who’d withdrawn from him after he started up with Abram, and now he felt whole again, complete. 

When the election arrived, everyone held their breath. 

Charles Whittier shocked everyone by withdrawing his name, and handing Wymack the council seat. 

In Troia, a new leader named Jeremy Knox arose, to the greatest pleasure of the people. 

In Columbia, their long-time representative Roland was re-elected. 

And in Evermore, Stuart Hatford won the vote. 

All of Crevan celebrated when the results were revealed, including the Foxes. The Moriyamas - what was left of them, those insignificant and not powerful enough to retaliate - were shunned out of the state or forced into shamed exile. There were fireworks on every block, and from the balcony of their apartment, Kevin, Andrew and Abram sat twined together on a couch, watching the sparks light up the night air. Abram was draped across both of their laps, happy as a clam, curled like a cat in a patch of sunlight. 

“I like it here,” Abram said, settling against them. He smiled. “I think I’m going to stay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know if i'll ever expand on this or try to clean it up and have it make more sense. probably not. like i said, it was just in my head and this is what came out so i hope y'all liked it

**Author's Note:**

> lemme know your thoughts?? i guess??? i wrote this super quickly because it was in my head and i wanted it out before it got away from me, hence why most of it makes no sense
> 
> (ASK ME WHY I KEEP GETTING IDEAS FOR SHORT ONE SHOTS AND FICLETS LIKE THIS WHEN IM STILL TRYING TO FINISH MY LONG ASS MULTI CHAPTER FICS)


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